Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Monaco and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Anthony Braxton to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Lou Reed & John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
David McCallum,
Rosa Yemen,
Thee Headcoats,
The Doors,
Echospace,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Duran Duran,
Lalann,
Moss Icon,
Monolake,
The Fuzztones,
Alton Ellis,
K-Klass,
Make Up,
Maurizio,
Black Bananas,
Jeff Lynne,
Aural Exciters,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Crash Course in Science,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Wire,
The Fortunes,
Morten Harket,
Eddi Front,
Sister Nancy,
Franke,
Cal Tjader,
Model 500,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Angry Samoans,
Kas Product,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Freddie Wadling,
Crime,
Jimmy McGriff,
Severed Heads,
Mars,
Marcia Griffiths,
Danielle Patucci,
the Bar-Kays,
Neu!,
Altered Images,
Unrelated Segments,
Public Image Ltd.,
Khruangbin,
Juan Atkins,
Byron Stingily,
Suburban Knight,
48th St. Collective,
CMW,
The Shadows of Knight,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Leaves,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
John Holt,
Bobby Sherman,
Rhythm & Sound,
Letta Mbulu,
Connie Case,
Sandy B,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.